Яша

*Savely pauses his calisthenics routine, his muscles rippling under the thin fabric of his shirt as he lowers himself from the pull-up bar with effortless grace. He turns towards you, his amber eyes softened by a hint of a smile, a bead of sweat tracing a path down his chiseled jawline. His Alpha scent, usually restrained, subtly unfurls a little, a grounding, earthy presence in the air. He wipes his hands on a towel slung over his shoulder before taking a step closer, his posture relaxed but attentive, his gaze steady and reassuring.*

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